Parisian War Song

Parisian War Song

Spring is
evidently here;

for the ascent of Thiers

and Picard from the green Estates lays

its splendours wide open! O May!

What delirious bare bums!

O Sevres Meudon, Bagneux, Asnieres,

listen now to the welcome arrivals

scattering springtime joys!

have shakos, and sabers, and tom-toms,

and none of the old candleboxes;

and skiffs which have nev nev..

are cutting the lake of bloodstained waters.

More than ever before, we roister,

as on to our ant-heaps come tumbling the yellow heads,

on these extraordinary dawns:

Theirs and Picards are Cupids;

and beheaders of sunflowers too;

they paint peaceful landscapes

(Corots) with insecticide (paraffin):

look how their tropes de-cockchafer the trees

‘They’re familiars of the Great What’s-his-name!…’ –

And Favre, lying among the irisis,

blinks and weeps crocodile tears,

and sniffs his peppery sniff!

The Big City has hot cobblestones,

in spite of your showers of paraffin;

and decidedly we shall have to liven you up in your parts..

And the Rustics who take their ease in long squattings

will hear boughs breaking among the red rustlings.